Ruined
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Tim must deal with the mental anguish of his choice. Tag to "Endgame."


Tim stands outside the coffee shop, waiting, pacing. He sees her walking toward him, her smile even brighter than the morning sun. Tim only wishes that he didn't feel this way. "Hey," she greets. "Gosh, you look beat. Let's go sit down." She leans up to kiss him, but he turns his head away. Amanda is immediately aware that all is not well. "Are you okay?"

He pauses, choosing his words very carefully. "I've been up all night." It was true; he had spent the night harping on this, tossing and turning, trying to figure out a reason for her, an excuse.

"Why, what happened?" Her tone drips with concern; he wonders how real it is. "Come on, you're scaring me, Tim. What is it?"

"Last night..." He stops, uncertain if he should follow through with his words. "…last night something didn't seem right."

She smiles sheepishly. "I know. You were busy; I shouldn't have come to visit. I'm sorry." She gives him her best Bambi eyes, as though they would assuage his annoyance, and normally they would have.

But he is not moved by them this morning. "Amanda, how'd you know where I work?"

Her smile falters for a split second, but returns at full force. "You told me?" It's a question, not a statement of certainty. "You said you worked at NCIS. I asked you and you told me. I remember exactly what you said."

"No," he insists, shaking his head, "I never tell people that. I give them cell numbers, I give them beepers, but you knew."

Tim stands there before her, waiting, to hear her explanation. Surely she has a good explanation. She's a sweet, adorable, coffee-drinking Grad student. Maybe she got nosy and googled his name or something. There's nothing sinister about this girl.

But that changes. "Where's Kai?"

He looks at her, brow knitted. It isn't only the surprising change in her accent that throws him off-guard; her entire demeanor has changed. Her eyes aren't sweet and sparkling; now there's a glint of something dangerous, something off-setting that Tim doesn't like. "What'd you say?" How did this woman know about Kai?

"Where is she, Tim?" she repeats, this time in a demanding tone. "I need to know. Tell me," she commands as she extracts a gun from her handbag, "right now where you think Kai is or I swear I'll kill you."

Tim is confused, not because the woman with whom he'd become smitten in the past couple of days had a gun trained on his heart but because the woman was still standing. This was wrong…she was supposed to be lying on the ground in his arms while he looked around frantically. Where was the gun shot? Where was Kai?

He looks back to her, to his Amanda. Except she isn't his Amanda; she is Juliet and she most certainly isn't his. The gun is still pointed at his rapidly beating heart. "Tell me, Tim," she repeats.

"I…I don't know…"

Her eyes narrow. "I don't believe that. You know something, but you're not telling me."

"Amanda, I swear! I don't know anymore than you do where she is! Please…why are you doing this?"

"You've three seconds, Tim. One…"

"Please…"

"Two…"

"Amanda…"

"Three…"

There's the gunshot he'd been waiting to hear, but it doesn't affect Amanda; she remains standing in place. Instead, he is propelled back in slow motion and hits the pavement. A hand to his chest finds a thick, sticky liquid oozing out. He brings his fingers into view; they're covered in blood.

As he lies there, his life seeping from his body, Amanda's face comes into view. He can't understand why she hasn't run. Surely someone saw her shoot him and will detain her at any moment. She blows him a kiss and then lifts her gun once more, this time pointing it straight down at his head. Her finger pulls back on the trigger…

"Amanda!"

Tim bolted up to a sitting position as he shouted out her name. Jethro, located at the foot of his bed, looked up, concerned that his master has yelled. Seeing no immediate danger, though, the canine returned to his own slumber.

It was only 2:14 in the morning, but this was Tim's third time waking up since he'd gone to sleep at 10:00 the night before. Each time it was the same dream, each with slight variations. The first had been a complete play-by-play of the previous day's events. The second had involved him shooting Amanda before she could shoot him…only to find out that she _hadn't_ been packing heat, that she had been an innocent Grad student who had managed to find out where he worked. This had been the first dream in which she'd actually shot him.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but he feared what he might dream next. Tim pushed his covers off and rose unsteadily. He hadn't even realized how violently he was shaking until that moment. You knew it was a bad day when just standing up took so much effort.

Sitting on the kitchen counter was a very nice, very full bottle of Pinot Noir that Ziva had given him for his birthday. He thought about popping it open and enjoying it to the fullest extent, but resisted the urge, opting instead to pour himself a glass of ice cold water. He then stood at the sink, not drinking the water but holding it against his perspiring forehead.

It had hardly been his first time having a gun pointed at him. After so many years on Gibbs' team Tim was accustomed to being shot at. In fact, just two days ago that nurse had nearly taken him and Tony down with a shot gun. So why had this affected him like this?

Because it hadn't just been someone; it had been her. It had been a woman he'd let into his heart, to whom he'd grown close in such a short while. It had been a woman who, in time, he might have loved. It hurt so much more because he had let her get so close to him. How could he have been so stupid?

Don't call yourself stupid, he scolded himself. There was nothing stupid about falling for a pretty woman; that's what men did. It wasn't as though he'd had any reason to suspect she wasn't being truthful, and he had at least figured it out quickly enough to stop her. If he hadn't…well, maybe Kai wouldn't have been able to step in and rescue him.

He downed the glass of water in one long gulp. It went down smoothly, cooling him inside and out. But it didn't solve his problem.

Amanda…Juliet, he supposed he should call her. She had seemed so interested, so sweet. Of course, she'd be trained to seem sincere; it was part of what had made her so successful. She knew the proper bait to cast and waited there, hoping to catch herself a fish.

Oh, and she had caught one, alright. She'd caught herself a nice, big fool. It had just taken a sweet smile and the promise of "dessert." Nice to know he was so easily taken in.

But what if she hadn't been Juliet? What if she hadn't acted interested in him only to find out where Kai was? What if she hadn't pulled a gun on him? What if she had been Amanda, sweet, beautiful Grad student? Where would life have lead them? Hard to say, of course. Maybe their story would have ended with marriage and children; maybe they would have split a month after they met.

One thing he knew for certain; Amanda had ruined him. Now, anytime he met a new woman, he'd wonder what the catch was, what dirty little secret was lying beneath her seemingly perfect exterior. He would look at every date as a potential killer and be on guard if she so much as retrieved a tube of lipstick from her purse. Could he ever look at a woman the same way? Could he ever settled down with a woman and be completely happy with her, or would he live in a state of constant self-doubt, wondering why she was _really_ interested in him?

Maybe. Maybe one day down the line, he'd put this behind him and learn not to be so suspicious…but he doubted it. This wasn't just a case of heartbreak, of parting ways after a long courtship or walking in on your significant other with someone else. That one decision to become involved with a woman could have ended his life, and would have if Kai hadn't been there. Because Juliet would have killed him, he knew. Even if he had told her where Kai was—assuming, of course, that he'd known at the time—Juliet would have seen him as a loose end to be tied and would have wasted no time putting three rounds into his heart. Tim wasn't so gullible to believe that she wouldn't have done it; he was far too smart for that. He wished he could lie to himself, though; it might make things simpler.

He poured himself another glass of water and downed that one too. He still felt woozy and tired, but he hadn't the nerve to try and get more sleep. Writing would have done no good either; with his mind where it was, the story would end with McGregor falling for an attractive woman only to find out that she was using him to track down an assassin. He'd had quite enough of reliving painful moments of his life via his own writing.

With nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, Tim slid down to the floor and sat with his back against the cabinet. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around them, hugging them in while his eyes peeked over.

When the sun rose that morning he was still in that some spot, having barely moved the entire time. He didn't feel like Timothy McGee; he felt like a shell of his former self.

He felt ruined.


End file.
